


I Only Want To Be With You

by Beezarre



Category: Holby City
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Berena Secret Santa 2020 (Holby City), F/F, Food, Happy Ending, Idiots in Love, teeny tiny bits of angst in places
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:28:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28196199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beezarre/pseuds/Beezarre
Summary: One night stand. Three night waver. Two week fall.The paths of two like-minded surgeons from a conference with extracurricular activities to many more days and nights dancing around each other and the feelings they can’t reasonably embrace. Or can they?
Relationships: Serena Campbell/Bernie Wolfe
Comments: 11
Kudos: 72
Collections: Berena Secret Santa 2020





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bat_and_Breakfast](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bat_and_Breakfast/gifts).



> My @berenasecretsanta 2020 entry. Thanks to Wonko for putting this together!
> 
> For Bat @batnbreakfast. Merry Christmas!
> 
> I'd like to thank daisydoctor13, lapalfruity, professorflimflam, doctorjameswatson, rauzadian, for their support. I'm sorry for any disappointments and ideas that will forever float away. I believed in them, I really did.

Bernie Wolfe, the woman who'd tilted her world off its axis, realigned her sense of self, and given her cramps in muscles whose existence she rarely had to worry about, was smiling in her sleep, warm, content, an invitation to join her again in the realm of dreams, soft skin close enough to touch. But after all they'd been through to get where they were Serena wanted to indulge, watch her a little longer, embrace the fact that she had the time to see those eyes open, just a little then all at once, no doubt followed by a stretch that wouldn't belie her puppy nickname.

&

It had all started with a piano.

"Isn't it Dusty Springfield?"

The question had taken her by surprise. She hadn't really been paying attention to the live music the hotel provided, doing her best to follow the conversations around her. The conference organisers had carefully chosen the guests. On the other side of the table, too far to talk to for most of the meal but close enough to share knowing looks, was Bernie Wolfe. 

Eminent trauma surgeon currently based in Nairobi, she had been one of the few people left when many had gone to bed already, anticipating the next day's early start. She'd been wearing a fitted jumpsuit, black with silver streaks, freeing her arms, so effortlessly elegant Serena remembered envying the way she had laid back in her chair, sat almost sideways, now with an elbow propped on the table, leaning forward, soft hair escaping the hairdo that had been impeccable as she'd arrived

It hadn't been Dusty Springfield at all.

Bernie had come to sit beside her until they'd moved to the hotel bar when everybody else had left. A drink left almost untouched in the heat of conversation, a flirtatious tone, a gentle voice paired with a loud laugh. Simple, almost too simple.

If Bernie had been a man Serena would have seen it coming. But the brush of hands? The kiss? The need for more? She hadn't expected that. Neither that nor the 'your place or mine' whispered in her ear, a welcome hand caressing her skin through the slit in her dress in the quietest booth in the room. Bold but not rash. An opening. An opportunity. 

She’d volunteered Bernie's room, thinking that it’d be easier to leave than to push away, part of her still tempted to put an end to it all before it even started, scared of an unknown she hadn’t realised she was interested in exploring.

Then Bernie's hands were on her waist, her lips on her skin, her body against hers. That jumpsuit hadn't looked half bad draped on the chair, either, distracting her just long enough that when she’d come back to Earth everything felt righted. 

She hadn't said anything about how new this was for her, not straight away. Naked under an appreciative gaze that 'secret' was all she could still drape herself in.

&

They’d explored, skin on skin, eyes locked more often than not when a breath hitched, when a pulse ran wild. Already then she should have known. She'd had one night stands before, but this... It wasn’t just about desire or pleasure. That was part of it, then there were quick naps and long talks about bodies, sex, not being dead from the waist down past fifty.

They were equals. Friends with benefits when they were only strangers, sated, liberated enough to broach subjects that wouldn't normally have come up in conversation. Barely enough sleep at all to face the prospect of a two day conference, enough to function with some strong and hot coffee.

They’d spent the next day trying to keep track of the other in the crowd, sitting close at lunch, a touch, barely there, an invitation for the evening after a shorter dinner than the day before. They’d met upstairs and this time there was no hesitation. It was another night. All they had was one more.

It wasn't illicit anymore, just a continuation of the day, learning new techniques, thinking too little of the oh so comfortable intimacy they'd shared. Bernie being from Holby had surprised Serena enough that she hadn’t thought twice when she’d offered her number in case the trauma surgeon was ever in town.

It could have ended there.

It hadn't.

&


	2. Chapter 2

Pacing in her empty house Bernie stared at the phone she'd left on the coffee table, right beside the neatly written series of numbers. The name, Serena. Just Serena. The woman whose eyes she craved to meet again, watch them flutter close at the tip of her fingers, not Serena Campbell, the confident flirtatious surgeon.

Grabbing the phone she started typing. 

"Hi" So far so good. "I'm in town for the week." Should she really say so? If only to keep their options open. "Would you like to meet?" That sounded reasonable, and the kind of text the other woman could afford to have someone sneak a peek at without prompting questions.

She signed it. She hadn't left her own number after all. Months and she still remembered this one changing hands, the chemistry there until the last moment, the urge to hold her, kiss her one last time barely contained. 

She resumed pacing.

&

It was a half hour before she got a reply. Busy day? Overthinking?

"Tonight?" Eager, to the point. What was this though?

"When and where?" That should clear things up. The ‘when’ seemed to indicate after dinner The where was an address her phone informed her was close by.

"I'll be there." She had time to shower and get ready, maybe grab a bite. She'd landed the previous evening and had bought the bare minimum, initially intent on a small round of grocery shopping administrative duties hadn't left her time or energy for.

Somehow the prospect of spending some time with the woman who'd kept a piece of her all those months before was almost as potent as coffee, something akin to anticipation running through her veins. For now though it was a matter of finding something to pile on toast, no time for elaborate cuisine if she wanted some to tame her hair. Not that she expected it to remain in place very long.

Pausing in front of the cupboards, she wondered if the idea she had had earlier was a good one. She discarded the thought just like she could discard the strap on if it got in the way, yet there was still a hesitation, doubts creeping in.

She remembered the other woman's almost shy admission, then, that she'd never been with a woman before, remembered her instinct to care and soothe take over the kind of battle of wills they’d started, cherishing those moments even more knowing that past that confidence that wavered was someone who trusted her enough to get this far in the in-between of an unfamiliar place.

She remembered the intimacy of it, the laughter, the freedom. She remembered the skin that was more than just skin, more than just desire, marked like hers by half a century of fighting a world that would have them kept in their place. A kindred spirit to look over as she slept. They hadn't talked about much else and Bernie wondered it things would change.

&

Parked further up the street Bernie checked the address one last time, finding a porch light lit, a beacon in the darkness. She knew it would be awkward, deciding she'd try knocking before using the doorbell, smoother, less invasive. She was just on time, and Serena opened quickly enough to betray the fact she'd been waiting. 

Bernie could see how nervous she was despite the determination in her eyes, dark but guarded. Serena opened the door wider to let Bernie through without stepping away, the first contact a brush of bodies, both reluctant to step away, a dance that seemed familiar, somewhat translating from the horizontal to the vertical until Serena had her back to the wall, Bernie gently pressing her there.

"Hi." It was a mere whisper in the shell of the other woman's ear, enough, more than, to make Serena shiver.

"Hi." Her voice was deep and breathy, lips barely brushing past the sensitive skin of Bernie's neck.

They moved to face each other, what felt like step one of a dance perhaps more elaborate than the discovery the hotel room had hosted. Eyes flickered to lips but it was Serena who initiated it, in no way tentative as she kissed her, but languorous in a way that felt like a dare.

Bernie wasn't sure how to impart the idea she'd had but was beaten to it by Serena gliding her fingers alongside the lapels of her shirt and bringing her closer, Bernie instinctively pressing harder against her, feeling Serena freeze and bite her own lip.

"You'll be the death of me." It was almost a growl this time, and Bernie's lips getting nipped at before a frankly unfair sweep of Serena's tongue soothed the pain away, heat suffusing through her as Bernie whispered, eyes still locked.

"Is now a bad time for a petite mort joke?" She was reduced to silence by another attack, this time to her dignity as she moaned into the kiss, the impossible woman testing her resolve, her hands having remained in reasonable places this far.

She explored just enough to discover that Serena's trousers had an elastic waistband, easily dealt with, and all there was under her blouse was lace, leaving plenty of skin to explore again under the flowy garment. She'd gone for comfort herself, unsure this was how it'd go, fine with undressing herself if it could gain them some time. She wanted to make the best of the time they had, however long or short that would be.

&

It could have been five minutes or five hours when Serena reached out for the light switch, too blinded to bear it anymore. Bernie was there, finally there, close, so close it was almost risible to call it that.

They were both half undressed, enough to reach for more skin, enough to stay warm, especially burrowed in each other as they were, unsure where one started and the other finished. The strap on had been a good idea, but ultimately the intimacy came less from this, from this other dance they were learning together, and more from the gentleness of touches, the shorts breaths on warm skin.

It was a matter of strength, balance, ridiculed by the words Serena wasn’t meant to hear, let alone over the noise of her hammering heart. How beautiful she was. How painfully perfect this felt. An unending song of praise whispered against her shoulder, her fingers tangled in the blonde hair to keep Bernie there, knowing she wouldn’t last, neither of them would. She knew she’d need the other woman’s strength to stay upright, or maybe they’d just fall in a heap and peals of laughter, and it didn’t matter, not really.

She didn’t even know what her full name was, but it was already tattooed under her skin, there to stay, anchoring her in the world more than any lover had managed before. She might not walk straight the next day but she’d do so with her head held high. She had doubts about the ‘straight’ part anyway. But that was hardly the time, or was it?

She felt a stutter in the other woman’s hip movements, enough to make her moan and tug on the hair she couldn’t get enough of, an echoing moan telling her all she needed. She felt one hand seek out her free hand, entwine their fingers, and she was thankful for the darkness, thankful she could free the tear running down her cheek with no spectator before her breath caught.

The palms they’d pressed together became their lifeline, holding onto each other through the waves that progressively waned, moving just enough for comfort and to regain their balance.

“Are you okay?” Bernie’s whispered words made Serena let out a small laugh. And then more and more until they were both laughing, letting go of some of the tension still there. But when she started talking it wasn’t quite what she’d planned.

“Don’t let go just yet, please.” The arm around her waist felt steadier than it had a right to, and the one now across her back cradled her in the space she knew she could let go. She felt the other woman nuzzle her temple, kissing her hair, a care she didn’t feel she deserved, let alone like this. Now that they were still the cold of the hallway was starting to get to them and Serena shivered, feeling Bernie tense slightly.

“Bedroom?” She was still whispering, afraid to break the moment.

“Lead the way.”

“Now that’s something you’ll have to teach me.”

That made Serena smile in the dark, taking her hand again to lead her upstairs, gathering their clothes to avoid any awkwardness whenever Bernie left. Whenever Bernie left. She didn’t want her to leave. Holding onto her hand a little tighter she opened the bedroom door.

Stepping inside she turned on a bedside lamp, turning toward her again. It was blinding, now that there was some light to shed on it, just how much care she could read in those eyes. Cupping her face she kissed her, eyes closed, trying to remember this as if it was the last time, because for all she knew it could be.

She left the clothes gathered in the hallway at the foot of the bed, but there were still some layers to peel off. As an act of good faith, fighting a part of her who still felt self conscious even faced with a woman whose whole behaviour spoke of her appreciation of her body, she let her blouse slip off her shoulders, buttons long since undone, letting it fall on the bed. 

It was an uneven fight, really, there was more to get rid of off Bernie, who looked damn good in her clothes, but Serena knew just how amazing she also looked without them. It was the real skin she wanted to see, not the facade that, like hers, had sustained years and years of scrutiny.

She took her time. Bernie helped. Piece by piece, inch by inch, she had more warmth under her palms, more softness, more scars. A body that had weathered the storms of life and gotten out the other side standing, the most painful reminder the scar on her chest, still pink, the kind that would never really go away. A line in the sand without which they’d never have met.

It took a while, a rediscovery, to get rid of everything, Serena’s comically stubborn bra clasp the last to go, lace discarded with the rest.

There was still one obstacle to what she had in mind, and Bernie seemed to have followed her thought process, working together to undo the strap on and free Bernie’s hips. With this done, Serena gently pushed Bernie toward the bed, the other woman faking outrage, a large smile lighting her face as she lied down, head propped on her hand like a painter’s model, making Serena shake her head fondly.

Bernie rolled aside to leave her some space and they reunited in the middle, skin on skin. Serena starting to trail kisses alongside her collarbone as Bernie re-mapped her skin. Serena slowly made her way down, to the point where she realised that it had taken until she’d reached the other woman’s belly button for her to understand where she was heading.

“What?” Bernie was frowning. Serena laughed. “You’re distracting!” That made Serena laugh even more, and lightly nip at the inside of the thigh Bernie had helpfully kept apart from the other. “Not helping!”

Her mock complaints didn’t last very long after that. Serena was intent on taking her time, she wasn’t on call and to hell with full nights sleep she could make an exception. She had nothing but paperwork to deal with in the morning, had made sure of that. Tomorrow… tomorrow meant letting go, and she wasn’t ready for that just yet.

&


	3. Chapter 3

She’d been a bit sore when she’d arrived at the estate agent’s the next morning but after ten minutes on an uncomfortable plastic chair she could blame it on the furniture. The day had been excruciatingly slow, all the more so with the promise of seeing Serena again. 

They’d parted in the morning, expecting to be awake long before the alarms they’d both set, realising too late they’d both set it too late to have time for more than just a time and place for that night if they didn’t want to run late. Good thing Bernie still knew all the shortcuts.

It was ten to eight, there was a queue at the fish and chips place Serena had given her the address to, and she was waiting for her, not sure what this would be exactly, although having a pretty good idea of where it might lead. Then she was finally there, they’d started chatting about work as if they’d been doing this weekly for years.

  
It was comfortable, the small table at the back of the shop meant their legs touched, gently but not innocently contrarily to what the rest of the place could have thought. From Serena’s day to day they’d reached Bernie’s, different yet in a way more of the same, and just what she was up to in town. 

Bernie had noticed Serena frowning, something passing on her face when she’d mentioned the sale of her house. And yes, she had to book the hotel still but there was no conference in town so she wasn’t too worried and everything save for the large bag she was bringing back to Nairobi was in storage already. She mentioned visiting her daughter over the weekend, further north, staying with her a couple days before flying back but couldn’t miss the cogs turning in Serena’s head.

“If you don’t have any other plans, I do have a guest room!”

Bernie frowned.

“Not that I’d necessarily expect you to use the bed.” The raised eyebrow, the slight smirk, if Bernie had dared she’d have kissed them right off her.

“Are you sure? I mean I do have a lot of admin left to do, things to renew or cancel…”

“You can have the dining room table if it’s clear by dinner time.” Now Serena just looked fond. That was another good look on her, and part of Bernie wanted to run from it, from the whole situation she’d gotten herself into. If she stayed around she’d mess it up, even three more days. Three more days, four more nights, enough to get her heart broken before she knew it, if it wasn’t already too late. Enough to break someone’s she’d started to care about before she even realised.

“I don’t want to impose.” She didn’t want to pace in a hotel room either, but for both their sake…

“You’re not.” There was an earnestness to Serena’s words, a longing, too. It did seem like a silly idea, they didn’t really know each other that much, but they were colleagues, equals, and a lot more than that. “And that’d give us more time to talk!” She did mean talk, in that moment, Bernie knew, yet both of them knew deep down that it was about more than words.

She’d felt fingers reach for hers across the table and let them tangle, the other customers focused on their own food, the people passing in the street paying them no attention. This wasn’t what it was supposed to be but it was a reassurance, a mean to remind themselves the other was there, still there. They knew, now, how long it would, could last. They would make the best of it.

&

The smell of cooking permeated the air when Serena stepped into her home the next evening, a firm reminder that Bernie was there. She’d given her the key before she’d left in the morning, the night spent together again.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d found someone she could talk to for hours but also be silent with with the kind of ease they had. Either turning to kisses, kisses leading to more, leading to sleep. A seemingly unending circle, one that she refused to see end sooner than it needed to.

She watched Bernie from a distance, then came closer to inspect the preparations. She wasn’t entirely sure what it was, but it smelled heavenly.

“Tagine.” Bernie answered before she was even asked. “I got inventive for lack of appropriate crockery, and it’s technically missing a traditional ingredient or two but I think it has promise!” Smiling victoriously she extended the spoon toward Serena for her to taste, leaving her hand underneath it to avoid any spillage, another excuse to get close.

“Well I don’t know what traditional tastes like but this is delicious!” She’d had to refrain from moaning, and was now distracted by a stray lock of hair Bernie hadn’t quite managed to tuck behind her ear. Without thinking she tried to do it herself, the blonde turning just as she extended her hand, fingers brushing her cheek instead.

Frozen in the moment, spoon in midair, they both felt a pang of guilt at how much they enjoyed the domesticity of those moments, when really what had led them there, and would again unless Serena banned her from her bedroom prematurely, was their bodies, the touches, the sighs. This, this was never supposed to be a part of the equation. 

Yet there they were, and Serena had a feeling Bernie had tackled dessert too because it smelled of something sweeter than the dish she was working on.

“You didn’t have to do this.” She kept her voice soft, it wasn’t a reproach, if anything it was a thank you she wasn’t quite sure she knew how to voice other than going back to roads more travelled, the ones that travelled on their skin, traced by lips in a whole different way.

“I wanted to.” That’s all there was, all there was to say. Now all Serena yearned to do was reach out, not necessarily a hug, but a closeness she craved that even their nights didn’t quench, she felt almost touch-starved when Bernie was near, as if having her close helped her breathe a bit better. It would sure keep her fed for a while, because there was more food than just for two in the large pan she was stirring.

“I checked your freezer and there should be enough space for the leftovers.” Was the woman a mind-reader? “Don’t mind the spinach, I have an idea for another meal and they keep better that way.”

“Spinach?” Serena’s brow furrowed.

“Green thing, wrongly applauded for its supposed highest iron content?” Now she was just being silly.

“Yes, I do know what spinach is.” How could she be infuriatingly attractive and cute at the same time? Her smile was contagious.

“Yes but do you know what it can taste like?” Bernie looked almost victorious. A woman of mystery. Well she was a mystery, really, they hadn’t talked that much still, but then again that hadn’t been part of the plan either, had it?

“Anything can taste like anything if you try hard enough!”

“Indeed. Now just take a look in the oven. I put them in there because I needed the workspace.”

Serena bent down a bit to peer into the darkness, seeing nothing until she opened the door. Pears. Not just any pears though.

“Are those Poires Belle Hélène?”

“Yep!” she paused with a victorious smile. “I listen, you know.” Her voice was soft, soft as her hair, soft as her touch. Soft as Serena’s heart beating a little too fast. “Sweet fruit, not quite forbidden, but coated in dark chocolate?”

“Do I even want to open my fridge right now?”

Bernie let out a laugh.

“I didn’t take over your kitchen, just making up for my ‘not’ occupying the guest room.”

“Your ‘not occupying the guest room’ is more than making up for your ‘not’ occupying the guest room.”

“Glad to hear that!” Now she was just being smug. Kissing the smile off of her seemed like the most sensible solution, which she did, at length, until Bernie broke it off to stir a tiny bit. Serena’s head was still spinning and she could taste the spices that made the dish feel so alive.

“I think we’re good!” Bernie eyed the food. “It can stay warm for a bit though.”

“Any plans?”

“A few, but I don’t think it can stay warm that long.” Bernie’s voice had gotten deeper and Serena had shivered, having to hang on to the heavenly picture of chocolate covered pears to resist the urge to just grab Bernie’s hand and drag her upstairs. That and the fact that the woman had spent that much time cooking, for her, for them, she definitely deserved this, a quiet dinner.

Was there an etiquette for a quiet dinner with a near stranger you’d spent most of the time you’ve known in bed with? The fish and chips had been one thing, but this was something else. This was another step of intimacy, of sharing, of caring, something Serena yearned to pour herself into yet was afraid to drown in. All they had left was two evenings, nights, at best…

&

The more time they spent together the less willing Serena was to see her go, the space around her suddenly filled by a presence the kind she hadn’t let herself miss for a long time. It was more than that, too, a sense of equality, a sense of agreement and arguments in which they were both right and knew it. It was about knowing smiles that shouldn’t have found their way as easily over a cup of coffee in the morning as they did at night over the rim of a good glass of Shiraz. It was about meeting at the wrong time, in the wrong way.

&

Bernie’s offer to meet again, early their last evening, half confident with some doubt dancing in her eyes, had definitely hit home.

“I can show you the sights but I have to warn you: I don’t have a guest room.” There was that smile again, the one Serena wanted to kiss off of her and drag her to bed.

“What shall we do then?” She smirked, inwardly having to remind herself that this wasn’t a relationship. It couldn’t be.

Of course they could manage to take the time off they were both heavily discouraged and encouraged to take, make it coincide, meet, and see how things went on a whole other continent. It was a long trip from Holby, but when Bernie had made her offer it was more than just to discover the inside of her bedroom, but the place she’d settled in, that she admitted she was still discovering herself. How much there was for a hedonist like Serena to wonder at and wrap her head around.

Bernie was leaving early the next morning, having promised to wake Serena up, and Serena felt like she was already missing her, losing something that wasn’t meant to last, like those outdoors art installations, inevitably blown away sooner rather than later. Now there was a wind chime dancing in the African winds with pieces of her heart.

&


	4. Chapter 4

“How can you drive in this amount of traffic?”

“The problem isn’t the amount. It’s the individual drivers.”

“Says the woman who just managed to skip two lanes in one go.”

“I was in the army, remember?”

“How much traffic is there in the desert? Are the dromedaries as rude as those minibuses?” Serena was only teasing, the whole situation feeling a bit surreal.

“Oi!” Bernie laughed. “Dromedaries are rude. Storms, however, much ruder. They keep overtaking you!”

She’d never really talked about her work in the army and Serena wasn’t going to press her now that she was trying to get them back to her place in one piece. The radio was playing a catchy song in what Serena supposed was in Swahili and she noticed Bernie was slightly moving alongside the rhythm, clearly a song she’d heard before, knew better than Dusty Springfield, who’d brought them there in the first place, in a way.

Her plane had been an hour late and she’d been incredibly relieved to spot the tall figure standing close to the arrivals board, wondering just how long Bernie had been waiting for her. There was no effusion, just a long look and an almost secretive “Shall we?”, head tilted toward the doors. Bernie had not managed to park that close to the entrance, and Serena had found she’d needed to remind her legs what standing felt like after such a long flight. She was brought back to the moment by Bernie’s voice.

“So, what do you fancy doing first?”

“What are the options?”

“Walking, food, or both?”

“Both as in ‘eating while walking’ or ‘walking to get to the food?”

Bernie laughed, a free laugh that warmed Serena more than the sun Bernie had warned her about. She’d opted out of bringing her large brim hat after showing it to Bernie during a video call and her joking that on the matatus, the colourful minibuses whose driving style she wasn’t too fond of so far, she’d be providing shade for at least three people, plus the person in the seat in front of hers.

She’d managed to book a late flight, and the combined broken sleep on the flight and on-flight food had led to her craving breakfast and having mixed feelings about food altogether.

“Is coffee an option?” Bernie turned toward her and nodded.

“I made some, figured you’d want the real stuff after a flight like that.”

“Well you seemed caffeinated enough for the both of us, but it would definitely help.”

“I’m just happy you’re here.” It was a genuine reaction, one Bernie seemed to be almost surprised to have let slip. Serena had a feeling she was the kind of person who rarely took time off, even with family, because her idea of time off involved not having a free minute to think, at least during the day, which seemed to be what she and Serena had ahead of them for the week she’d be staying.

A whole week. A whole week of more than just nights. A whole week of more than just evenings and wine. A whole week of sharing space with the one who had made her realise there was hope for… something. After Elinor… 

In fact that was something that had hit her like a ton of brick as she’d walked toward the ‘stranger’ in the airport earlier: she’d rarely been as open about Ellie, her childhood, her death, than she had been with Bernie, in the darkness of her bedroom, or the light that still bathed their skins before they wrapped themselves in the sheets. The moments of quiet. The long silences that weren’t heavy, but weren’t light either, the ones that bore the weight of the whole of their lives. 

It took time to unwind half a century of a story that had shaped them to be the women that fit together so well in a bed in England, and Serena knew there would be more talking in the darkness of Bernie’s bedroom too. Maybe over the food, unfamiliar for some of it at the very least.

It was a kind of balance she’d found with a woman who was clearly not the kind to take the time and speak, but did in those moments they’d stolen to Morpheus, fighting sleep to spend just those few more minutes, the tip of their fingers entwined if not the rest of them. 

  
Bernie was focused on the road, both hands on the wheel and Serena took a moment to look at them. What had brought them together had been medicine, the other woman’s talents, and her own, but while they’d talked about work they had never seen the other in theatre, never had the chance to work together. She had not been able to stop thinking about it in between of the few calls they’d managed. How it would go if they were to operate together? Would their personality clash, or would the dance they’d started that first night translate there, too?

Serena was distracted from the ever repeating thoughts by Bernie pointing at things on either side of them, from building to adverts, translating the odd thing when needed with an added ‘at least I think that’s what it says’ now and then that made Serena laugh.

Bernie had admitted to not being bad at picking up parts of languages when immersed, which she had in the army, paired with some serious studies to help things along. She’d talked about how different it was in Nairobi, the bilingualism, the accents, the culture. Now Serena would get to experience it for herself, this duality of languages, one of which was completely foreign to her ears. It had seemed simple when Bernie had explained the bare bones of its grammar to her, but other than a language that sounded more musical than she’d expected, she hadn’t been able to detect that logic.

“We’re almost there.” Bernie’s voice was soft as she pointed forward past some high rises. She’d managed to find a flat not too far from the hospital, close enough that going by foot was faster than driving and finding somewhere to park in case of an emergency, and had already told her stories about her neighbours and the happenings of her building. 

She felt well there, although there was an unspoken agreement to keep their distance in public, something they hadn’t talked about, something Serena wasn’t sure wouldn’t break some of the magic that made their bond work. Would it be any different though?

Having gone from nights, to evenings, this was just the chance to get to know each other and their world better during the day, Bernie having most likely every intention to keep them inside in the evening. There was only one bed after all, but Serena remembered her saying that no one would think much of that, neighbours or colleagues. Just the previous week her upstairs neighbour had had five family member over, apparently joking that you couldn’t use the loo at night because the whole floor was taken by spare mattresses, making Bernie laugh still. 

Overall, from what she’d gathered of Bernie’s day to day stories, in some ways things were simpler. Harder in hospital at times, it was organised in a way different from both what she’d known in her earlier career and in the military, but she was adaptable after all, that was also part of why she was there.

If there was a problem, Bernie had told her, there was a solution. It was just a question of looking at the problem the right way. In a way that mindset came a lot closer to the one she’d developed in the army.

She spoke of the place so fondly that it was also what Serena had started looking forward to, it was what she’d talked to her colleagues about, not just the ability to pick a top surgeon’s brain, but a place that was something different yet called to her. 

She’d gone abroad before, in search of many different things, but what she was really after in this place was the piece of Bernie she could take with her on the way back. Because this, before it had even started, she knew, was most likely the end of the road. 

So she would take that road slow, and if she couldn’t hold her hand, she could catch her eye, her laugh, the light in her hair, drink her in until they could share a glass in the relative quiet of her flat.

Bernie finally turned down what seemed like quieter streets and found somewhere to park. She’d encouraged Serena not to pack too heavy, given her some tips also for her own peace of mind, assuring her there was very little she’d really need that she couldn’t find within a ten minute walk.

Bernie took her suitcase before Serena could even argue. Bernie lived on the fourth floor, not high enough to have a good view on much but enough to have better than just the bins, as she’d stressed before. She could see the stars and that was good enough for her. 

Serena had never been much of a stargazer but she could still remember Bernie’s stories of missing the English skies, no matter where she’d been deployed, and even now that she’d expatriated herself. The sky wasn’t the same, it made her all the more homesick of a home she didn’t really have in her own words, but it was the home of her childhood, and every time she looked up she wondered, she’d told Serena, how those stars shaped the lives of people living beneath them. The skies weren’t that clear, light pollution, and straight up pollution, made them rarely that visible from her window but sometimes you were just lucky.

For now the only star shining was the sun and it was already threatening to set Serena on fire, she felt, the car drive only bearable thanks to the speed and open windows. The stairwell welcomed her with freshness and she took a deep breath, making Bernie laugh.

“You’ll get used to it.”

“You’ve said it before. And you’ve been in warm places before.”

“I can make iced coffee if you’d prefer.” Serena stopped her ascension, looking straight at her. 

“Don’t you dare!” 

Bernie’s laugh danced over the steps upwards. Serena had to step aside to let a group of kids run past on the next landing.

“Up to no good those four.” Bernie smiled fondly. “The oldest has asked me for help with his maths since he discovered I’m a doctor.”

“Oh dear, what did you say?”

“I pointed out that his sister was a nurse and was probably really good at maths too.”

“What did he answer to that?”

“That I was nicer and was less likely to make him finish his English homework.” They laughed.

“They’re good kids, really good at football in fact, haven’t managed to score a single goal, and let me tell you my tours have trained me for quite a lot of kid techniques!” She sighed. 

“There is something about this place that makes me feel at home, in spite of everything that baffles me on a daily basis. But I have a lot less things I can hang onto.” She paused. “At least in the army I had… the army itself, the people in my team, the language… The colloquialisms and the accents that sometimes surprise me when I hear them here!” She shook her head. 

“Anyway…” She fished her keys out of her pocket and unlocked the door, letting Serena go first. “Welcome to my den!”

“Cosy.” It was much less bland than what Serena had imagined from the few video calls they’d managed to cram in their busy schedules, the white wall was just what was above the couch, missing by inches the art above it. Other than that wall everything was colourful. From carpets to ceiling, there was some extent of colour. 

The kitchen was much the same. She could sneak a peek at the bathroom and bedroom and the latter at least featured some amount of, occasionally clashing, colours. She wondered whether it was Bernie’s doing, or perhaps the previous occupants. 

She wasn’t sure Bernie would have gone to that extent herself, having maybe added the curtains. They were a shade of orange or maroon or something in between that wouldn’t have looked half that good if the wall beside it hadn’t been some shade of dark purple.

She wondered why she’d never asked for a tour. She remembered a couple calls that had come from the kitchen, but had just featured a rather… well centred view of Bernie’s chest throughout as she was cooking at the same time, sharing some tips she’d learnt or just trying to squeeze something edible in her busy schedule. 

The time differences hadn’t helped, and they’d both attempted not to have that much contact, fearing the end of it, because then it would just… could they keep in touch if there was no other meeting planned, keep seeing each other’s face without touching it knowing they were continents away? She sighed and Bernie turned to her, worried but Serena smiled at her encouragingly.

“Coffee?”

“Yes please.”

That was something they both agreed on, at least, something that never changed. Strong and hot, just like they liked it, just like she liked her. “I’d have planned something else here but it’s a lot more fun to get it ourselves, makes it worth it, I promise!”

Serena just nodded as she waited for the coffee to heat up, looking around the room and wondering how once again how Bernie’s organisation worked that she managed to stay on top of things and yet live in what looked to be a relative mess. Everything clearly had a place, she just had quite a lot of questions about some of them.

She was handed a mug and practically moaned into it, making Bernie laugh, coming to lean against the wall beside her, just for the sake of being close again.

“Enjoy the break, with this week’s plans you’ll be happy to have a bed to fall onto at the end of the day.”

“Well I was already happy to have a bed to fall onto at the end of the day, provided I have some company.” There she could flirt, and she sure wasn’t going to stop herself. “In fact the end of the day isn’t necessary the only time I’m willing to fall onto it.” 

&

The bed was left untouched in the end, empty coffee mugs left in the sink as they made their way outside. After a first detour Bernie handed Serena a triangular pastry.

“Maandazis. Like donuts, only better.” She bit in hers as if to demonstrate and Serena followed suit. The earlier coffee had revealed that she was, in fact, rather hungry and that was just what she’d needed, for now. Bernie had promised quite a few discoveries, her enthusiasm communicative although it meant Serena had to encourage her to slow down, longer legs taking longer strides and disappearing ahead of her, not that she complained about the view.

“Oh, and you’ve got to have some tea!” From the look on Bernie’s face Serena knew there was a trick there. “We’ll see, maybe before the market, so you can digest properly…”

Serena had agreed to do most of the day’s visits by foot but was starting to question her decision, Bernie’s energy already hard to match as she commented on their surroundings, the walks she was used to taking for lack of her usual runs, the people she then figuratively ran into, the friendliness of street vendors who knew a returning customer when they saw one, the warnings on street food that locals could stomach but tourists had more trouble with.

The tea was a small affair from a big Thermos bottle. Bernie had warned her in advance that it was considered a delicacy, and rude not to drink it, and Serena felt like it was all a test when she saw the beverage poured for her.There was skin on top, for starters, and the colour was… off, as if someone had put too much milk in it.

She understood very quickly where that impression had come from as she sipped from the drink, trying to avoid the floating remnants of warmed milk. This was milk. And quite possibly only milk. Full fat, too, if the Cheshire cat grin on Bernie’s face was anything to go by. The blonde seemed to be able to drink the concoction just fine, and Serena suspected she’d have to let Bernie finish her cup if she wanted to keep her stomach content where it was.

“Did you think I’d like it, or was this a test?” Serena’s question was only half serious.

“Bit of both, the look on your face…”

Serena managed to drink a little bit more, cups switching hands when Bernie was done with hers.

“Okay, colour or smell?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Art or food?”

“Art, please, I don’t think I can handle food again just yet.”

Bernie let out a laugh. “This way then.”

They walked for a while, Serena letting her eyes wander on the buildings, the streets themselves, and the beautiful woman by her side, smiling in the sun, eyes meeting every now and again.

Bernie took her to the Maasai market. If she’d found Bernie’s flat colourful, this place was something else entirely, art of all kind, from jewellery to paintings seemed to celebrate a part of one of the cultures that made Kenya so diverse, although it was mostly aimed at tourists. 

Bernie guided her herself, and they spent a long time peering at the craftsmanship in front of them, how delicate or clever some pieces were, pressed close together to leave space for the crowd moving around them, the back of their hands brushing, almost innocently.

They walked slowly after that, Serena getting used to the weather, to the sun that seemed so different from what she was used to in the way it welcomed its people from its dawn onward. 

  
There were several food markets, Bernie had warned, and they visited a few, Bernie’s arms bearing quite a few bags from the first visit onward. She’d bought some kiwanos, green fruits that looked like they had tried to grow spikes but had given up halfway. Bernie had torn one open for her and to Serena’s surprise it tasted of… orange, in a slightly different way. The blonde had gifted her a coconut, too, whose top had been cut off, the juice a welcome counterpoint to the heat.

There was so much to see, so much excitement in the way Bernie shared it that despite her aching feet Serena didn’t have it in her to ask for more breaks than Bernie had already planned.

&


	5. Chapter 5

Several hours later the bags, full from the market and all the dedication Bernie had put into finding them something really worth sitting down for, were strewn across the room. The counter, the floor, the top of the small fridge containing more heat sensitive ingredients, it was all there and seemed to be able to cater for over a dozen people. 

She wasn’t sure just how much leftovers Bernie could pack in that small freezer compartment in her fridge, but if her ‘edge’ in that department was as good as her military packing skills Serena had no doubt she had ample options for lazy, or overworked, evenings, when the day had been too much, or perhaps not enough.

“Try this!” Bernie hadn’t even sorted everything out yet, in fact had only picked the one thing and cut a piece of it to hand it over to Serena. She would be full before they even started the meal! She munched on the small piece of… something Bernie had given her.

“It’s good!”

“Good! Then feel free to peel those there, we can fry them as appetisers while the rest cooks.”

“How many courses is this meal meant to have?”

“Depends, in a place like this you can stack more food types in a plate than we tend to for occasions other than Christmas, but it doesn’t really qualify as a course in itself.”

“That doesn’t really answer my question.” Serena was smiling softly and Bernie reciprocated.

“There’ll be dessert, if that’s what you were worried about. But I’m not telling you what it is.”

“Will you at least let me make it?”

“I’ll let you help!”

“By distracting me with appetisers?”

“Well I was hoping my dashing good looks would be good enough for that, but for lack of that appetisers work too!”

Serena rolled her eyes fondly, taking the knife Bernie had passed her and starting to work on the first element of what seemed to be a gigantic food puzzle. Even if some of it needed peeling or reducing or even plain shrinking she was fairly sure this was too much food. She’d taken a look at the wine and it wasn’t half bad a Shiraz either. The woman really did know how to treat her right. 

She could almost hear Ric smile smugly and say “She’s a keeper”. Maybe she was imagining things. She clearly was. Daydreaming about Ric was the last thing she ought to be doing when she knew how little time she had to actually keep her. 

There was no talk of another time, no talk of more. There was just the now, and part of Serena, both the one that needed more and the one that needed clarity, begged to know, yet feared even more than the answer might be a firm no. But in that moment, side by side, Bernie’s merriness hard not to let seep into her, she couldn’t find it in herself to doubt. 

There was a lightness to it all. Cooking was for eating, and eating was for staying alive, but Bernie had a way of making cooking more, something to be cherished and shared when the moments or the meal was meaningful enough. And there they were, working in tandem, and in that moment Serena knew. 

She knew, from the gentle silence the seamless exchanges of goods and sharp implements, that this was just a small theatre of their own, the care they took of the food, the preparations, everything was a mirror of who they were, two faces of the same coin, and Bernie was so very focused yet so very there, aware just like Serena was of the other woman’s presence.

“I’ll miss this.” She would. They hadn’t really had this before, but she would miss this intimacy.

“Me too.” Bernie had simply whispered, not looking up from whatever it was she refused to explain she was doing but assured she was doing right. Then she’d looked up, met her eyes and if it wasn’t for years of training of never letting go of a blade no matter what Serena wasn’t sure the one she’d been holding wouldn’t have clattered at her feet. 

There was something incredibly soft, yet incredibly raw. The softness of fur and the rawness of a wound that run just as deep as Serena’s, the lone wolf who needed companionship at least for a little while, in much the same way she did. 

She had friends, yes, but she knew what it felt like to be lonely in the middle of a crowd. Sometimes it was also about finding the right person, someone whose soul resonated with yours, and she knew she’d found that, had known for long enough that keeping the eye contact any longer would have been a bad idea. She looked away, toward the peel she had discarded, and felt more than she saw Bernie move, leaving a soft kiss in her hair, above her temple.

Bernie wasn’t good with words. For all the things they’d shared in bed there was more to her, the part that wasn’t a story she could tell but the beautiful silver lining beneath it, that she couldn’t phrase. So she showed it instead, in little ways, in little touches. Another form of intimacy Serena wasn’t sure she would have fully understood before meeting her. 

The nuances they’d managed to reach after what little time they’d spent together painted a rainbow on the cocoon they’d wrapped themselves in. Time. Never had time felt quite this uncertain, even at the worst of joys and sorrows, facing deaths she could never accept, she had never grasped that quality time had to stretch in that direction. 

She knew about seconds feeling like centuries, willing them shorter and struggling to make it through. But this, this feeling of wanting to retain a time that was already slowed, wanting to make every second count when she could hear them tick on the old clock on the wall behind her made something shift in her.

Time, that was all they’d ever had. The only promise they’d ever been able to make. For them there was such a thing as the end of time, the end of times, time, periods, time, and now… Now a full stop?

“Do you fancy some music?” They hadn’t spoken a word for a good while, working side by side in comfortable silence. She dreaded to think what Bernie could possibly have available, yet knew that whatever it was would endear the blonde to her even more.

“Sure, what’s on offer?”

“The best I get is a local radio, there’s all kind of music, the mainstream stuff from the bigger radios, some cooking and gardening things I only get a handful of words from, and lesser known bands. It’s relaxing when you don’t know enough of a language. It’s beautiful and you don’t need to understand it fully to grasp its beauty.”

Serena just nodded, wondering whether Bernie realised that that last sentence applied to her, too. She’d never really understand her, would she? She’d never have enough time, so she’d take everything she had, and run away with it all the way to Holby and try to add that to the crumbling pile of things she used to rebuild herself. The last time she’d used those words Jason had asked her if she was comparing herself to a lego set. She’d told him it was more about card castles, or sand ones. He’d pointed out that all it took to take a sand castle away was a tide, and in the end…

He’d been right, in the end. Sand was malleable, Bernie was a tide she hadn’t seen coming, a tide that had been kind to her, giving her space and strength to rebuild herself without, she supposed, really knowing how deep the chasms went.

&

Dinner was delectable. Bernie had piled it all on plates she’d somewhat precariously placed on the coffee table, both women sitting next to it against the couch. Bernie had assured her everything could be eaten without cutlery, but it had taken a few attempts for Serena to get the hang of it, making Bernie laugh, get closer, guide her, giving her no good reason to get better and, if anything, distracting her.

How they had managed not to stain their clothes beyond help was rather amazing. The wine glasses were on the carpet that had escaped a similar fate. The wine was good, the company excellent, and there was a freedom to being there, together, at the other end of the world to the place they had such strong ties to. 

The food was a safer way to travel than planes, and the combination hadn’t worked out that well, but she had tried everything Bernie had meant for her to try and had yet to oppose anything. Bernie had assured her most of it kept really well, making Serena suspect this could very well be the next day’s dinner as well, which was fine by her. 

Having somehow managed to put everything away as safely as Bernie’s tetris skills permitted, they found themselves dancing around the other as they always did, this time testing the new terrain.

“Bedroom’s this way.”

“I could use a shower.” She really could, and didn’t think Bernie’s accommodated two people.

“Go, I didn’t actually have time to finish tidying up the bedroom this morning to be honest.” She looked liked a kicked puppy for a second and made Serena smile. “I’ll show you, the shower head has a mind of its own.”

&

When Serena finally exited the bathroom, realising she’d taken longer than she’d meant to, she found Bernie looking out the window onto the city, or at least what she could see of it. She was greeted by a tender smile that would have made her knees weak if it hadn’t come with dark eyes. She hadn’t actually bothered borrowing Bernie’s bathrobe.

“Not cold?”

“I was hoping you’d help with that if it ever became an issue.”

“You look cold.” She wasn’t. Still, she didn’t mind Bernie’s hands on her skin, her lips on hers. She’d missed this, more than she’d have been willing to admit. She let herself get lost in the touch, let herself be guided to the bed. She’d been promised a comfortable mattress and was not disappointed. She had a feeling it wouldn’t support much sleep during her stay though.

&

The’yd fallen asleep tangled in the sheets, in each other, blonde hair caressing Serena’s cheek at each of Bernie’s exhale. Judging by that she was awake too.

“Breakfast?” 

“Bernie…” Serena’s voice had cracked, she could use coffee, or at least water. Bernie let out a small laugh. 

“I meant food! I’ve got something planned for today! I’ll start the coffee, you find us something to snack on? Feel free to explore the cupboards.” And with that she was up, her warmth already missed, skin glowing in the sun rays that had found their way through the blinds.

She’d thrown her bathrobe in the direction of the bed as she’d passed the bathroom door but if Serena hadn’t managed to untangle herself in time she’d have been wholly buried under it.

The soft material felt good against her skin and she tested her limbs before risking getting up, rolling her shoulders to try and get rid of the reminders of the previous day’s flight the previous night’s shower hadn’t managed to erase. Tiptoeing to the kitchen she found a variety of things that only half surprised her, and little actually inspiring. The coffee was on its way, one drop at a time, and there were more drops in the bathroom Bernie exited a few minutes later.

They decided to find breakfast on the way, Bernie meaning to show Serena more of the sights she’d discovered, some she’d looked up knowing she was coming. There was more than enough, too much, for her whole stay.

They’d planned to visit the hospital the next day, the idea being a quick chat with select colleagues and a quick tour of what was in place. What shouldn’t have taken more than three hours led to them spending almost an entire day there, giving Serena an idea of what Bernie’s professional life really looked like, feeling a certain tension there nonetheless. Tensions were usual in any hospital, she knew Holby was no stranger to full-on feuds at times. According to Bernie the rumour mill was about as bad as what Serena had described. Some things never changed.

Every day Serena spent in Nairobi felt like an accumulation of whirlwind moments and soft pauses, light bubbles they were happy to share, in silence most of the time. With days as full as they did more sleep was had than what either had expected. As a result they’d decided to take the last day ‘off’, just the two of them. The sky was greyer than previous days, and they’d opted to stay in bed for most of it. Still, there were dark clouds on the horizon, a goodbye they weren’t ready for.

In the space of a week they’d almost managed to finish the easiest part of the puzzle the other was to them, helped by glimpses of the full picture as they shared and shared, food, words, bed. Something had shifted, this time fully shifting into place, a place they knew would be left vacant all too soon. But there would be no regrets, not when they still had some time left to share a space as small as they wished.

&


	6. Chapter 6

They’d set their alarms early, earlier than the flight called for, just to get some more time together. Holding hands, arms, bodies, as much skin as they could, they couldn’t sleep. There was nothing but silence, the deafening silence of the synchronised breathing of two lovers who know just how long it’ll be until they part. So they waited, keeping the other close, trying to remember everything, leaving kisses that turned to words. No promises, only statements. The good and the best. What they’d remember.

They spent time, too, in the shower, unmoving, pretending every drop came from above. In the silence of the drops hitting their skins was the one word they couldn’t say. If they did it would be nothing more than an acknowledgement of the bond they had, and they couldn’t afford to tear themselves apart more than life already had. A drop of water in a desert that couldn’t be an oasis.

This would be one more scar, one they wouldn’t, couldn’t talk about. Another loss. A grief to keep close as the last remainder of what they had. More memories that would fade until their loss became more painful than the first.

Serena cried, sobbing, held more securely than she had been in years. Bernie’s back rested against the cold tile, holding back, holding onto one flicker of hope. The one she couldn’t bring until it was almost too late.

&

It was still dark as Bernie drove through the night, windows closed, knuckles white on the steering wheel, looking straight ahead yet stealing side glances, jaw set. As uncomfortable as it had grown to be Serena had let herself slide slightly until she could rest her head on Bernie’s shoulder, close, just a little closer.

Bernie had managed to park closer than the day she’d picked Serena up, almost ignoring the opportunity, to be as far as possible, get as much time beside Serena as she could, but she couldn’t delay the inevitable. There was space for both their hands on the suitcase handle, if they squeezed a little, and the weight of it felt disproportionate knowing what was inside.

Serena felt like the blonde was ready to pounce, like something was so taut, so desperate… She just felt empty, empty of the care she hadn’t lost yet. The hallway was too bright, a good excuse for the tears pricking their eyes. It would be some time still, some time sat side by side, in silence, until the flight was announced. The whole world seemed to start waking around them, but something was shutting down, a hope, a future. Or maybe not quite.

“Serena, there’s something…” There was a grave look on Bernie’s face, something that made her pause. “I… I could be in Holby about a week before Christmas.”

“O-okay” Serena nodded, it was just a month away, not quite daring to ask the next question, not ready to say goodbye again when she was already so close to leaving. “How long?”

Bernie looked away and Serena feared the worst, a day, two, just to see her kids?

“I thought I could stay. It’s home. Home is where the heart is and this place won’t need me much longer. I’ve had offers.”

“You’d stay?” Serena couldn’t contain the hope in her voice, the joy, refusing to think how their relationship could translate to something more than a week or two.

Bernie nodded, almost shyly, half hidden under her fringe. “If you’ll have me.” Her voice was so soft Serena wanted to wrap herself in it. And she might be able to, soon. 

All she could do was nod and pretend she wasn’t as close as she was to just bursting at the seams. She let the tears go, sadness, yearning, relief, when she felt Bernie engulfing her in a hug. They didn’t part until Serena had to go, looking back every few steps that took her away from the tall figure whose caring she could still feel despite the distance.

Something was bubbling in her chest. Hope. And once again: time.

&

There was a lone figure, waiting. The red coat stood out even with all the brightly coloured Christmas decorations and the ballet of people surrounding her. Eyes riveted to the arrival board, she resisted the urge to pace. Bernie’s plane was over an hour late by now. She had no idea how this could go. They hadn’t talked much since she’d left Nairobi and part of her feared the magic would have dissipated now that they had a shot at ‘normal’. 

&

Bernie grabbed her bags, a feeling of déjà vu haunting her. She’d taken the plane more times than she could count but with her tours she’d often expected some presence, anyone past a certain point, only to be direly disappointed. She’d told Serena when she was landing, which flight since apparently you could keep track of those online now. She hadn’t asked her to come, hadn’t told her she hadn’t shared the information with anyone else.

When she sighted the red coat in the distance she pinched her lips to try and go back to the good old British reserve that had been slowly thawing since she’d left the army. She partly blamed Serena for it. And there she was. She hadn’t spotted her yet and she got to look at her for a while longer. She was as beautiful as she remembered, more so even.

Only a day after she’d left Bernie had realised she had no picture of the woman, no personal ones at the very least. Of course she could find some through internet searches, but none of them featured that smile that was a balm to any injury, the twinkle in her eyes. There were words. There were words and she’d have to be brave enough to speak them aloud. But not now, not today.

“Serena!” she called out and saw the other woman’s face light up, practically running toward her, stopping a couple feet short, taking a few seconds to take a deep plunge in each other’s eyes, world stopping around them. “Hi.”

“Hi!” There were tears, almost there, and Bernie had no idea what to say, going for a one armed hug, noses brushing, lips meeting. Here, they were safe, safer.

“I missed you.” Bernie’s whispered words almost getting lost in the noise of the crowd.

“Did you sleep in the plane?” That seemed like an abrupt change of subject.

“I did, actually.”

“Do you feel up to a stroll through the Christmas market? They’re lighting the tree in just a few hours.”

“Lead the way!”

With that, Bernie found a warm palm against hers, fingers tangled, her other hand battling with her bags.

“Do they have mulled wine?”

“They better do!”

Bernie laughed, and Serena joined her, eyes meeting again, yet another promise of more, just a little bit more.

&

The Christmas market did have mulled wine, they found. The only disadvantage it presented was the size of the glasses that forced them to let go of the other’s hand. The bags were in the boot of Serena’s car, but the extra Christmas gift ideas the place provided had led to smaller bags now hanging on their wrists. 

The food they’d found to calm the growling stomach of the ravenous Wolfe had been duly shared. They hadn’t seen time pass by and the second serving of wine was almost gone by the time they joined the crowd gathered to watch the illuminations. Bernie’s head was a welcome weight on Serena’s shoulder.

“I thought you’d slept on the plane!”

“It might surprise you to hear that you are more comfortable than a plane seat!”

That made Serena laugh, Bernie’s makeshift pillow shaking as a result.

Serena smiled a little brighter as she recognised the song oozing from the Christmas market.

[‘I Only Want To Be With You’](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=osVaF4t-zFc)

“Now that is Dusty Springfield.”


End file.
